The Life of a Hunter
by ThRndmMrchngZmbe
Summary: Set 10 years after what is now commonly referred to as The Fall, an organization called the Hunter's Order has made it its mission to rid the world of Walkers. Spearheading the charge is a rather young Hunter by the name of Matthias, one of the few people that seem to be at home in the post-Fall world. (Kinda AU I guess just to be safe.)
1. Chapter 1

I ducked behind a waist high wall of concrete and took my carbine off my shoulder, swinging it around and looking through the scope at the dilapidated building in the distance. I clicked the safety into the off position, and took a slow breath; inhale, slow exhale. I squeezed the trigger, and the carbine jumped a little in my hands, the subtle sound of the gunshot not even disturbing the birds that sat on a fence a hundred yards away. I watched my target fall, and cycled the bolt, bringing the rifle up for another shot. I went through the same procedure. Inhale, exhale, pull trigger. Another one fell. I continued this until eight targets were down, exchanging the empty magazine for a fresh one and stashing the empty in a pouch on my belt to be refilled later. Inhale, exhale; pull trigger. The horde was starting to notice that the ones that shambled on the edges were falling. Cycle the bolt, inhale, exhale; pull trigger. I needed to hurry and dispatch the rest of them. Eventually they would notice the sound of my rifle; after all, it wasn't completely silent. Cycle the bolt, inhale, exhale; pull trigger. They turned away from the building, their glassy, dead eyes searching for the source of the noise. While I cycled the bolt, I took an extra second to look up at my immediate surroundings to ensure that there wasn't one sneaking up on me. I sighted in, inhale, exhale; pull the trigger. This time they figured out where it was coming from. They slowly began shambling towards my position, even though I knew they hadn't seen me yet. They followed noise; it was in their programming, if you could call it that. I stayed calm. The probability that they had seen me was slim to none, and I knew that I would be done before they reached me anyway. I had done it a thousand times before, and this time was no different.

Cycle the bolt, inhale, exhale; pull the trigger. Two targets fell and I allowed myself a small smile. I would hasten to believe that if such a thing had occurred five years prior I may have laughed, but things had changed since then. I cycled the bolt, inhale, exhale; pull the trigger. In all honesty, it wasn't the environment that had changed so much as it was my own mind. A majority of my life had been spent after the Fall, and it was because of this that the others resented me. Cycle the bolt, inhale, exhale; pull the trigger. I was a machine. I was one of the few able to do my job without the compassion that others reserved for the dead, and the sword on my hip served as testament to that ability. Cycle the bolt, inhale, exhale; pull the trigger. The rifle was still smoking when a new magazine was slapped into the magazine well. I stood up, no point in hiding any longer, as they were less than a hundred yards away. My coat fluttered in a slight breeze, and I raised the carbine. Eight shots, eight targets fell; there were only three left, and I decided to save the rounds. I rested my rifle gently against the wall and pulled my coat aside, drawing my sword and reveling in the metallic rasp that it made as it left its sheath on my hip. The three targets shambled forward, and I flicked my sword out to the side. It gleamed in the sunlight, a monument to everything that being a Hunter was about. As the first target stepped within striking distance, I widened my stance and brought the sword up and around, vertically slicing through the creature's skull. It fell. The second shared a similar fate, and the third continued on, despite the fact that behind it lay the testaments to my strength. If he had known better, I may have even admired his bravery; but it was cold instinct that forced him onward, not bravery or logic. He was an abomination, not by choice of course, but an abomination nonetheless, and he needed to die. I stepped forward and brought my sword down in a whistling arc, cleaving his head in two and terminating his miserable existence. He fell, and as he fell I looked on, noting the trail of rotten bodies leading to the washed-out building that they had originally crowded around. I mentally scolded myself for not being quicker and letting myself get distracted by my thoughts.

I wiped the blood from my sword on the shirt of my last target before sheathing it and striding over to my firing position. With meticulous care, I picked up the spent shells and put them in a pouch on the side of my bag. Twenty seven. I'd taken out twenty seven walkers. I sighed and slung my rifle onto my shoulder. Though it may have been true that taking them out meant that there were that many less in the world, it did not give me peace of mind; there were hundreds of thousands more to kill. I pulled my scarf up over my face and put my hands in my pockets, making my way towards the building the walkers had surrounded. I would spend a bit more time looting, and then try to make it back to the nearby Quiet Town. Always looting, looking for walkers, never getting any rest...it was not the best life, but it was mine; the life of a Hunter.

The life I chose.


	2. Chapter 2

[START LOG ENTRY]

27 victims put to rest with confirmation; attracted building cleared. Source of attraction unknown. Weapons used: .45 silenced rifle and sword. Rounds used: 28. Ammunition and food status is sufficient, though extra supplies are always welcome. Supplies gained from looting add up to: 6 items of miscellaneous food, 34 rounds of assorted ammunition types, and approx. one pound of scrap metal, presumed to be steel. Nothing else to report at this time; taking refuge at the Northern California Quiet Town until further orders are given.

[END LOG ENTRY]

I sighed and stretched out on my cot, my bones cracking and popping in the relative silence of the room I had been given. I considered getting up and cleaning my rifle, but a sideways glance at my window to the outside made me reconsider. I preferred the menial task to be done under the sun, and at the moment it was raining quite heavily. I furrowed my brow in annoyance as I realized that if the rain did not die down before the end of the night that I might just have to clean it inside.

Grumbling, I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the small canvas cot that most Hunter safe rooms were equipped with. I took a moment to put on my necklace and combat boots before standing, my joints and muscles whining as I put even the smallest amount of strain on them. I rolled my eyes and buckled on my sword before grabbing my long oilcloth coat, opting out of putting the hood up until I was outside. I opened the door, and was about to leave when I looked back at my nightstand and eyed my M1911; though I was in a Quiet Town, there was always a possibility that someone's older-than-dirt grandmother had passed away in her sleep and developed a taste for human overnight. With this in mind, I slid the sleek handgun into the holster on my hip, buttoning my longcoat to hide it.

The lobby of the building, which had been a hotel before the Fall, was relatively empty save for a bored-looking sentry reading a book in the corner. He looked up at me and gave a small nod, to which I replied by throwing up my hood and walking outside. The rain was bearable and light, coming down in the same way that old world writers used to pay tribute to whilst they wrote their poems. It was the kind of rain that two lovers would kiss in, but this time it gave a home to a solitary soul with a resolution to unaccompanied loneliness.

Despite this, I smiled as I made my way through the narrow streets of the Quiet Town. Places like this really were a refuge to those that spend most of their time on the move; they were bubbles to the past, small scattered monuments to a time when a person could leave their home without being armed or with a group. With a sigh and a promise to myself to keep my mind on the present, I silently observed my surroundings. Everyone was inside due to the rain except a few hurried individuals that valued their destination more than their dryness. I chuckled as the rain pattered against my coat, valuing the last gift given to me by my grandfather before the Fall. After a few more minutes of walking, I found myself standing at the door of a general store, the sign above the door stating rather bluntly that the owner would not accept sex as payment for food. I laughed a little and shook my head as I opened the door and stepped over the threshold, throwing my hood back.

The short-haired brunette sitting behind the counter opposite the door would be best described as bored, though it was immediately evident that it was an agitated kind of boredom; the kind that one gets that borders on annoyance and leaves you unable to sit still. Her eyes brightened slightly as I entered, observing me as though she expected me to do something to alleviate her predicament. In response I strode to the counter, slinging my pack off of my back and setting it down on the thick oak.

"Hey I see you made it back alive. Why do you always come on rainy days?" Her whiny tone teased me as her now-bright eyes met mine. I laughed.

"You know I don't mean to, Becca. Though I feel as though you'll be happy I'm back this time; I found something I think you'll be interested in." Rebecca's eyebrows inched towards her hairline as I rummaged through my pack and she heard the clink of glass bottles. Her eyes widened and she sat up as I produced a bottle of pre-Fall whiskey and a cola.

"No way...you actually found some?" She took the bottles from me and looked at them as one would admire a newborn child. "Where do you keep finding this stuff, Matt? And I'm assuming you didn't tell the Order about this?" She eyed me with a teasing glare and I chuckled lightly.

"I found it while I was clearing out a building that a few Walkers had taken a liking to. And of course I didn't include it in my report; they don't need to know I'm giving away supplies." I watched as she broke the seal on the cola and breathed in the sugary aroma, groaning in ecstasy. She then looked at me sternly.

"You sure you want me to have this for free? Keep in mind you can't pull a 'you owe me' card later if you say I don't owe you right now." I grinned at her lightheartedly.

"Well, honestly I was expecting a shot of the cola, but if you really want to be greedy and take it all for yourself I wouldn't kill you for it." Rebecca rolled her eyes and poured up a shot of the fizzy soft drink. I eyed it as the relic it was before taking a tiny sip and letting it sit on my tongue. It was euphoric; a heavenly mixture of refreshing, teeth-rotting, sugary deliciousness and bubbly carbonation that seemed to be a gift from the gods of the old world.

I finished off the shot and set it down on the counter, sighing as I watched Rebecca screw the cap back on the top of the bottle, placing it into a cooler behind her. She looked up at me, laughing a little bit at the disappointment on my face that I was making no effort to hide.

"Tell you what," she said, a half-cocked grin splayed across her face. "If you can make it back alive next time, we can half it. Hell, if I get another one by then, I'll give you the whole thing." I grinned at her playful proposition.

"Aw, come on. I always make it back; this seems unfair to you. Aside from that, I don't think the Order will have any jobs for me for a while. I would say I've done a pretty good job in protecting California these past few months." I looked around at the small shop, taking in the meager stock Rebecca managed to sell to scavengers. Some of these things I had brought back myself, exchanging for a meal or shower ticket. Years of training allowed me to keep my sorrow from blooming to the surface. Soon I would need to return to Seattle, and I would likely never see Rebecca again. But there was no need for her to know that, to know that I had only stepped in to act as North California's Hunter because Marcus, the previous one, had been lost during a clearing run. It was better for her to think that I would be staying here longer, and I was not about to rob her of any small happiness she still got out of this twisted world we inhabited.

I gave Rebecca a reassuring smile, more so for me than for her, and threw my hood back up. "I'm gonna head out to do the standard routine. I don't know when I'll get called back out, but I promise I'll come see you before I do." She returned the smile, and gave me a light punch on the shoulder. "Yea, you better. You know I miss you when you're out there."

I turned away before she could see my pained expression, and strode to the door. I was already halfway out when I heard her calling from the gloomy interior of the small building.

"Hey Matt?"

I turned and looked at her over my shoulder. "Yea, Becca?"

"You uh...stay safe out there, alright?"

I turned and let the door close behind me, squaring my shoulders and staring into the rain.

"Always."


End file.
